


Lack of Hope

by emptyswimmingpools



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Admittedly there isn't even that much Newtmas, Angst, M/M, Newt's Limp, Pre-Canon, Spoilers, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:24:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5099060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptyswimmingpools/pseuds/emptyswimmingpools
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had seemed that all feelings of hope and motivation had been replaced with ones of doubt and worry. Perhaps Newt couldn't quite live with that - a daunting situation where he aimed for an escape yet didn't want to damage anyone, though it was apparent that he'd only end up being able to pick one.</p><p>But after his choice goes a little wrong, his friends are still there to pick him back up and aid his recovery, despite there still being a lack of hope. This problem, however, ends up getting solved later; the solution being in the form of a new Greenie: Thomas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lack of Hope

Running the Maze every day felt like a chore to Newt. It felt like he had no say in it, like it was obligatory. He figured it was kind of his duty to do so, rather than it being his choice, like it was originally started out.

It was quite sad really; Newt used to be so passionate about it, but that feeling had passed, and now he felt nothing but bitter, strong hatred towards it. He missed when he felt an odd sense of thrill and determination even just thinking of running, though he wasn't quite sure he wanted to feel like it again, because he was a little bit naive before - naive about the possible dangers, the pressure of escaping and the agonising repetitiveness of the Maze's patterns and routes.

He had grown tired of, well, being tired. The Maze had its tendencies to wear Newt out quite a lot - he would end up drenched in sweat, dirt, and sometimes even blood. His clothes would be damp and would cling uncomfortably to his slender frame, and his hair would stick to his face in a manner he thought to be unpleasant. He had countless rips and stains on his clothing, which he had tried to get out with very little success.

It scared him. The pressure, the Grievers, the thought of getting lost (even though this was unlikely considering he knew the Maze like the back of his hand, but whatever, it was still possible, no matter how unlikely)... you name it, Newt hated it. He completely and utterly despised feeling neurotic. He felt pathetic for it, even though deep down he knew he wasn't being fair on himself. He put on a brave face and never spoke of the fears that penetrated his brain to anyone. Not even Alby or Minho - his two closest friends whom he knew he could talk to about anything, because they were both good listeners and offered exceptional advice.

Newt knew that he really needed to stop bottling things up all the time, he really did. But that thought never seemed to stop him, because he felt as though he would be causing an unnecessary burden on a friend, and he didn't want that at all. Keeping things to himself all the time wasn't Newt's best quality, but he promised himself a short while ago he would try and work on it, and perhaps he should try harder at that, because it didn't currently appear to be working.

But the main factor that fuelled Newt's sudden change in opinion was the incredibly large sense of doubt that he had never properly considered before a few nights prior. The doubt he had in himself - in the other runners - overpowered all feelings of hope he once had, and although he desperately wanted to believe that him and the others would eventually find a way to escape, he just  _couldn't_. He deemed it as near enough impossible. He reckoned it was a pointless duty and an absolute waste of time.

He felt as though they were all  _meant_  to be trapped there forever, a way out to never be discovered. Like someone had placed them there (for a reason he couldn't even begin to fathom. Most likely something ridiculous and/or unnecessary) and had left them there until they all hit their inevitable death. Deep, yes. Pessimistic, yes. But to Newt it was the truth. The only possible explanation for his -  _their_  - current situation.

Because the whole thing felt sort of uncanny - he had absolutely no memory of his life before the Glade, same as the others, which meant that their memories must've been somehow wiped. He couldn't help but feel like this was for a negative reason, because he couldn't seem to find any reason it would be beneficial. Unless they all somehow had unbelievably shitty lives that they were trying to help them forget about, he reckoned his theory could be accurate.

Newt knew he could never actually speak of such thoughts, however. This was due to the fact that Newt had secured himself a role as the "calm, cool and collected" Glader, whom he knew it would be considered out of character to bring negativity into the scene. It would probably bring the Glade into a devastation, actually, because most of the boys there pretty much relied on hope. And although Newt knew false hope was bad, he couldn't let them down, because false hope was better than no hope at all, right?

At least, that was Newt's way of thinking. His number one priority was making sure that all his friends were okay and that the Glade was being ran sufficiently, which was why he liked to input and help out so much. Sometimes he wished he didn't have a great desire within to please people and keep everyone happy, because it'd be a much easier job than keeping his true beliefs a secret, but then again, he'd probably be classified as a massive bitch, and he didn't want that label.

Besides, he couldn't stand to see all the people he loved get tearful. It was kind of like a chain reaction of sorts. The sight destroyed him, and he would always end up blaming himself even if the cause of it had absolutely nothing to do with him. In retrospect, perhaps Newt should be more rational about that, but his focus was set on something else: getting himself together before anybody found out just how pessimistic his thoughts could be.

But perhaps nobody  _did_  have to find out in the end (well, kind of. Not directly spoken, anyway). Perhaps Newt didn't even have to keep up his optimistic facade any longer, without even telling anyone of it. Perhaps there was a way Newt could get out of running the goddamn Maze every single day without resigning. All his problems seemed to all lead to one simple solution: ending it all ('it all' being his life).

It was quite a nerve-wracking thought, but despite his hesitation, Newt knew he'd die here regardless, so why not just speed up the process? It made sense in his head, and it didn't seem like there was any other way to fix all the problems running through his mind. The only real query was how he was actually going to carry out the process. Let a griever attack him? Bash his head on the walls? Stab himself? Climb the walls and jump?

The last one sounded the least... gruesome. It seemed like it'd be a much less painful execution of the scheme, which was a lot less daunting to him, thus making the whole process easier on his end.

And so the next time Newt ran into the maze, he made sure he brought the little note that he had wrote just a few hours prior with him, which explained only the basics of his mental situation, because he refused to go into detail - that was a private matter. His nerves were high at that point; he could hear his heartbeat in his ears and his breaths were rugged and heavy. His hands shook a slight amount as he climbed up the tall walls of the Maze using the ivy vines, and stopped halfway, because that was where they ended.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, opened them, and took one last look at his surroundings, knowing he would never get to process them again. The high and dark walls intimidated him, so that would be rather easy to let go of, but goddamn, he had made quite a few memories in this place, which were a lot harder to brush off. This was the place he had began to bond with his fellow runners; Minho and Alby in particular.

A tear slipped down his cheeks as he closed his eyes once again, whispering "sorry", as if someone else was in his presence to hear it (which of course they weren't). He would miss some things. But alas, they could not overpower the negativity, as much as Newt wanted them to, so before he ended up chickening out and climbing down again, he took the leap of faith, and he jumped.

Everything went black then.

 

* * *

 

Waking up again was strange; Newt hadn't anticipated it at all. His intentions were to bloody die, not end up face to face with his worried best friends! He thought he wouldn't still be alive. He didn't  _want_  to still be alive. He detested the thought of being trapped just like before. God, he couldn't even kill himself right. He was a mess, to understate it.

His thoughts were a running mess of dubiety, and he couldn't quite bring them to a halt no matter how hard he tried. He was irresolute and mostly unaware of how he came to wake in this room.

Besides the frantically worried faces of his friends surrounding his half-conscious state, he also came to a painstaking realisation: his leg hurt like a bitch. It ached oh so badly, and he wanted the pain to subside, but maybe Newt just wasn't destined to get the things that he wanted, because if he was then he wouldn't be in these circumstances. The burn in his leg made it almost impossible to stick to one train of thought, and that frustrated him to an extreme level.

He groaned, quite loudly at that, which made the others aware of his awakening. "Shit," he choked out, opening his eyes finally and visibly cringing at the light (it wasn't even that bright, but in fairness, Newt had been in darkness for... okay, so Newt didn't know how long, but it was a while). His friends were wide-eyed at his awakening, presumably because they weren't expecting it. Funnily enough, Newt felt the same way.

"Newt," Alby said softly, gasping slightly at the shock. Minho looked as though he wanted to say something as well, because his mouth opened in that sort of manner, but maybe he just couldn't find any sufficient words, because no noise left his mouth until after Alby spoke again. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Shit," Newt said a second time, his tone bitter and his throat dry. "Absolutely bloody shit," he continued, emphasising the strength of his emotions.

"Why'd you do it?" Minho cautiously asked, kind of hesitant, as if he didn't want to pry on Newt's emotions too much, which he was rather beholden for. Though Newt wasn't sure why he asked, because surely he had read through the note Newt had left in the pocket of his trousers? Why wouldn't he?

Newt didn't feel like talking about that now. What he really longed for was a distraction; something that would take his mind off of all the physical and mental pain he was going through. "Don't wanna talk 'bout it," he simply mumbled, hoping it would put them off and make them drop the topic.

"Alright, well, you know you're gonna have to eventually. We can't help ya get better otherwise, Newt. And we really,  _really_  don't want ya to suffer in silence, good that?" Minho said, his voice soft as he spoke of the threat.

"Good that," Newt croaked, giving the two a weak smile. Although he felt ineffably guilty for his doings, he was extremely grateful for how much his friends cared. A warm, pleasant feeling of comfort filled him, and he had a very brief and quick feeling that perhaps he  _was_  going to get better.

Mentally, at least, because there was a slight issue with feeling fully physically better again. "Newt? We need to tell you something," said Alby.

Newt raised his eyebrows, prompting him, but Alby turned to Minho, giving him a look that suggested 'hey, can you take it from here?', and Minho sighed and nodded. "Your leg. It's..." he trailed off, unable to put what he wanted to say into words.

"What about it?"

"It's not gonna properly heal, to put it simply."

Oh.  _Oh_. Newt didn't know what to think, besides 'oh wow, I really fucked up this time'. First of all he was trapped in this small green shithole, then he couldn't kill himself successfully, and now his leg wasn't going to recover properly. Fantastic.

"Would ya care to elaborate, Min?" he asked with a sigh.

"You're most likely gonna end up with some kinda limp. Dunno how bad it'll be yet - too early to tell. But you definitely can't be a runner anymore. Sorry," Minho said.

 _But you definitely can't be a runner anymore_. Well, at least it was successful in one aspect, on the plus side. He could certainly live with never going into the dreaded Maze again - that was something he found relief in. He hated the bloody thing.

"S'fine," he responded.

A silence fell over the room, and it allowed Newt to be able to think a little more clearly. He layed evaluating his situation, trying to relax a bit, because his thoughts were racing, which he didn't want.

"What exactly happened out there?" Newt asked tentatively.

"I found you," started Minho. "You were unconscious, but I thought you were dead for, like, a good five minutes. Carried you to the others who helped me get you to the Med-jacks," he continued to explain.

"You got everyone worried sick, Newt. Nobody expected you, of all people, to pull a move as shuckin' big as this," said Alby, and a wave of guilt flooded him.

"M'sorry," he said. Rather pointless, though - a five letter word wasn't going to solve the problem.

"Just don't do it again," Minho deadpanned, before walking out of the room. Alby trailed afterwards, leaving Newt alone with his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Newt's progress was slow. His leg had improved quite a lot, but it did take quite some time. He only really felt pain when he put pressure on it for extended amounts of time, so he was stuck with a small limp, that was only really noticable if you were particularly observant. It wasn't really convenient, per say, because he wasn't that fast and it annoyed him to an ineffable extreme, but it was certainly manageable; he could live with it.

As for his mental state, he was coping, and that was that. He was still what he would refer to as a 'pessimistic slinthead', but he was better than before. He still thought that they weren't ever going to find a way out, but he was beginning to find peace in that, because hey, the Glade was okay, and he had his friends, which was all that really mattered. Perhaps being trapped wasn't as bad as he originally made it out to be.

But maybe that attitude would completely - or mostly - vanish, and maybe he'd actually regain the hope for escaping he once felt, way back when he first woke up there. Maybe he'd meet someone special who'd convince him that there was a possibility they would get to go out into the real world. Because maybe these 'maybes' were really a code for 'yes, this does happen'.

About a year (give or take a few months) after the incident, there was a new Greenie - Thomas. He seemed regular at first; irresolute and independent. But the first impression of him proved to be greatly incorrect after a short while; he was much different from the others.

He was curious, and oh so persistent. So persistent that maybe Newt would find it annoying if he weren't so frustratingly cute. He would constantly ask questions, and Newt admired his courage in that sense, because when he had been the Greenie, he wasn't half as determined to find answers as Thomas was. He had just accepted it how it was, and left it at that.

He was smart, yet simultaneously idiotic. He knew some things all too well, and he picked things up at a rapid pace (quicker than all the others, including himself), but he made a lot of stupid decisions. He was quite clearly the type of person to act before they think - a quality Newt didn't entirely know was good or not, but nevertheless, he admired his fearlessness.

Newt vividly remembers the moment they first met and spoke. It was a regular morning, nothing unusual. Everyone was working as they normally did, anticipating the loud shaking noises coming from the box, signifying a new arrival like it did every month. So, yeah, nothing majorly out of the ordinary.

Alby was about to give him the grand tour, when Newt had interrupted him, because he kept going on about Nick (this dead Glader), which visibly seemed to scare Thomas. "Kid's gonna have a buggin' heart attack, nothin' even been heard yet," he said, then paused to hold out his hand in a polite, welcoming manner. "Name's Newt, Greenie," he introduced himself, "and we'd all be right cheery if ya'd forgive our klunk-for-brains new leader here."

Thomas reached out to shake his outstretched hand, and Thomas smiled, to which Newt returned a smile to match as he dropped his hand. Newt stayed silent a while longer while Alby continued to talk, but when he started coming off to strong again, he made another input: "Alby, lay off a bit. You're hurtin' more than helpin', ya know?"

As for the rest of the conversation, Thomas started to show his curious nature a little more, which brought a lot of them to a surprise, because most Greenies weren't really like that. Thomas seemed to find a reassurance in Newt, because every so often he would look over at him in that manner, and that warmed Newt's heart just a tad, because he was flattered he had made a nice impression. He was seriously worried he'd mess up.

(Despite this, though, Thomas didn't really talk to him a great deal at first. Newt was curious as to why this was, but didn't brush on it. He ended up coming to the conclusion that it was due to his nerves about the place - a highly understandable concept that Newt was perfectly happy to settle with.)

Thomas was easy to get along with. Newt liked that. He would always value Newt's opinions and such, and the two became fast friends. Newt reckoned that there was only one major aspect about the boy that he wasn't so fond of: his determination to be a Runner. Newt knew all too well about the experience (quite obviously), and he would always show visible hesitance whenever he brought the matter up. But of course, he still spoke, because he didn't want to crush his hope.

He knew how it felt to have feelings of helplessness, and he had decided that he very much did not want for Thomas to experience them himself. He was too good for that. Hell, anyone was.

But he figured that the likelihood of that happening was low, taking his tirelessly insistent trait into account.

So perhaps Newt would be okay in the end.

And perhaps Thomas would be the root cause of that.

But perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

**Author's Note:**

> YES I KNOW IT WAS ACTUALLY ALBY WHO FOUND HIM DONT SLATE ME I CANT BE BOTHERED TO CHANGE IT
> 
> anyway i spent three days writing this please appreciate my efforts
> 
> i have like no fic ideas so send me prompts on my [ask](http://ask.fm/petemikeywasreal) thank u
> 
> i left my tab open while writing and my mum read part of this fml
> 
> sorry for the lack of glader words but im honestly shit at trying to throw them in
> 
> love,  
> lee


End file.
